Family Ski Trip
by SapphireShineszx1400
Summary: Bulma plans a family ski trip and invites the whole gang. The first order of business to get the plan underway is to get her Saiyan prince of a husband to acquiesce. With the vacation set in motion, another lag is hit when a ski tournament excites competitiveness out of the lot; more notably, stirring competition in earth's two strongest warrior rivals. Can this trip end well?
1. Chapter 1

A/N...Here's a new story.

Bulma decides to plan a family trip along with the gang. A week in the slopes there's bound to be some trouble...Can the heiress pull it off?

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ.

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" It's my turn Goten!"

"No, Trunks, It's my turn!"

"No you dit, mine," Trunks grabbed the remote control from the obsidian eyed boy. Before the other boy could feign tears, he tossed one of the couch pillows at him. The pillow smacked the boy's face sideways. The action only seemed to anger the boy, and with one swoop, his fist met with the lavender haired prince's chin. The force in the attack was powerful enough to thwart him aside. Goten had never been one to resort to violence. He took after his father's benevolence, but if anyone could trigger any violence tendency, it would be Trunks. The boy, like his father, was vulgar with his words, and it was with his depraving words that he undermined, disrespected, and enlivened anger. He was cunning, direct, and facetious with his mouth. Often so, it was Trunks's condescending nature that triggered Goten's dark side.

Goten's punch had caused Trunks to release his hold on the remote. Bitterness filled the young prince as the remote in his hands flipped and landed in Goten's. Rubbing his chin profusely, the boy contemplated the inward affect the punch had on him. The hit pained his pride more so his chin, and for his wounded pride, a shadow of shame was cast on him. If his father was present, he'd glower at the boy, with disappointment gleaming from his ebony eyes.

Shaking with anger, the boy charged his friend. He hollered out a battle cry. His first preempted strike was barely countered by the opposing foe, but with dynamite speed, his second strike sent the boy flying across the room. Goten collided back first with the wall. The pictures that hung about the wall suffered greatly. Dramatically they fell, immediately met with fractures and dents on their silver metallic shells. One frame avoided any fractures or dents, but its survival was short lived as Goten unknowingly stomped his left foot on it. The two boys for what seemed to be minutes stared each other down in their own respective battle stance. Each trying to make the other back down with their formidable glares. Inexperienced with proper battle strategical thinking, Goten shot a ki blast. A mischievous smirk played on the young prince's face. Taking the opportunity that his yet inexperience friend has given him, Trunks pressed his footing, giving him a solid undeterred stance, the boy caught the ki blast bare handed and sent it back to Goten. The young boy was meet face first with the blast, but forming an _x_ with his arms, he was able to block off most of the fire power. The blocking might have protected him from any burn marks, but it served no other use for he was thrown through the walls. The formerly canvased wall was now decorated with a giant, gaping hole.

A few rooms down, the rising commotion had begun to stir Bulma. She had kept herself locked in the lab; adding a few finishing touches on a new bot she had designed. Her focus wavered here and there at the boys constant shouting and gibing, but it wasn't until she heard the giant boom, and the ground shaking beneath her did she take the incentives to check on them. Trunk was loudly shouting profane words, and with an eye roll the heiress thought, _we know where he got that from..._She reached the room and her eyes and jaw gaped open. The mess was inconceivable, it was hardly valid to call it a _mess. _From an apparent ki blast from Trunks the couch was split asunder. The wall had an obnoxious hole in it. The pictures she had taken so long to arrange and frame were all piles of broken glass, broken frames, and wrinkled photographs.

It didn't take long for Bulma to snap out of her shock to establish her notable fiery outbursts. "Trunks! Goten!" The two boys, who had each other in submitting grapples, looked up at Bulma. Realizing the depth in his mother's anger, Trunks quickly released Goten and folded his arms behind him; a stance he normally took when trying to emit innocence for any wrong doings. Bulma squared her arms on her hips, and bent her body in a scolding manner towards the boys. Her head turning from Trunks to Goten, she wagged her index at them. "You two with your s_uper saiyan_ strength destroyed my living room!"

Trunks turned behind him only to see that his aggressive behavior had split his mother's couch asunder. Habitually if anything like that happened, Trunks was quick to point his fingers at Goten, but he'd been caught red-handed. His mother was fairly passionate about her home decor, and although money was never an issue for them in replacing any broken appliances, his actions still were met with punishment. His gaze descended from his mother's fiery blue orbs to the floor. His cheeks went scarlet when she demanded to know who started the fight. He knew although he did not throw the first punch, his actions had summoned Goten's anger.

When the two remained stagnant and silent Bulma turned to Trunks. If anything he should know better not to fight in the house. She'd vehemently warned him that his battles should either be held outside or the gravity room.

"That's it." The heiress grabbed her son by the forearm and dragged him down the halls, "time for _you_ to tell your dad of your actions."

The boy was stronger than his mother, but at that threat he felt his strength paralyzed against hers, "No! No! please mom!" He begged and begged and begged. But his begging fell on deaf ears. Bulma stomped her way down the halls to the gravity room. If Trunks wasn't going to listen to her there was only person on this planet that had the power to subdue the boy and subjugate him into obedience. Goten afraid for his own fate decided on an impromptu exit.

"I'll pay for the damages mom!" the boy cried, the gravity room was now in his line of sight. He felt his heart drop at what awaited him. The boy knew if his actions resulted in interrupting his father's training, his actions of misbehavior would not be what incited the elder prince to take command of the situation. It would be the fact that Trunks came between his precious hours of training.

"With what money?" Trunks barely caught his mother's response to his proposal.

"With my..." he pondered for a second, "Ski equipment money!"

Bulma stopped her advancement, and looked down at him. Her expression was conflicted. "Boy, you're really scared aren't ya…" With a defeated huff, Bulma let her grasp on the boy go. Trunks smiled widely at his victory, but his mother's scolding frown brought him back to a modest composure. She bent down to matched her son's height. "If you promise me…pinky swear, " she brought her pinky up, " that you will never ever fight in the family room again…I'll let it go. Just this once." Trunks without any hesitation grabbed his mother's pinky with his and shook on it.

"I promise mom…" He was lucky this time. Trunks returned to the destroyed family room. Three bots were already in there fixing the destruction in the room. Trunks looked around and noticed Goten's absence, and with an unamused huff he grabbed for the remote and sat on the broken couch. _What a loser he totally ditched me._

With things from the evening settled, The heiress went back to her work. Her son for the first time offered to take responsibility for his action, albeit with a little fire on his ass, but still a grand feat for her boy. The feat was hardly demanding of a golden star, but the heiress felt generous.

Trunks had been raving all year for ski boots, and Bulma, trying to instill value in her son, said he could buy the boots with his saved up allowance. It had been about a month ago since the two formed the deal, and Bulma was proud that the boy had enough responsibility and determination to have done so. That was another grand feat for the boy, and for that she decided on a reward.

What better way to let the boy enjoy his hard earned toy than to take him to the slopes to try them out. The idea of skidding down a snow capped mountain stirred fear in her gut, but her worry seemed foolish. The boy has done way more risky stunts, and this was mere child play. " A ski trip." She mouthed to herself. The idea was tempting, but the planning would be gruesome; especially with her schedule.

"Eh, I'm the president of the freakin company," she raved, setting the bots back in the box, "I can just say I'm going on a family ski trip." She stopped and thought for a minute, and with an excited squeal she jumped contently. " A family ski trip." She breathed. This had to be one of her greatest ideas. One of her most epic ones to say the least. She could not sustain her hype. She needed this vacation, not just family bonding sake wise, but the heiress truly needed a break from her work. Ten hours a day in a lab really stressed the skin...and keeping her youthful complexion was on her top tens.

She left the lab in a start, excited to jot down activities, budget, and invites. She wanted to invite everyone...She knew getting a hold of Goku would prove to be a minor ditch on the road. That man only thought about food and training. The others were pretty hip with their phones to contact. While jotting down the blueprints to her trip one thing crossed her mind. Another minor dent in this whole operation: her husband. Vegeta's disdained forced quality bonding. Through the years he became more settled into family life enough to naturally offer quality time, and by that, it mean't he wasn't locked in the Gravity room. But anything forced, he felt controlled, and the insecurity of being manipulated caused him to shut down and reject everything. His hatred for the forced quality time could easily be assuaged with words, but his hatred for any and all contact with the human race would prove to be a hurdle. And for the gang, he'd only tolerated them. For one they were Bulma's friends so he had to, and second, he saw them more adept than the rest of the population.

With a terse draft of the trip at her disposal, the blue haired heiress began concocting the plans needed to get her husband on board. It was her only mission, and if she knew her husband, the time it would take to persuade (or threaten whichever came first) him would take a probable seven days. He would protest, protest, protest, and she would meet his resistance with more persistence. One way or the other, he will acquiesce to this trip.

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Thank you for reading...

Feel free to drop me a review...I love reading your comments and feedback.

Stay tune for the next chapter!

Bulma, through many cunning attempts and severe extents, tries to ger her husband on board. Will she accomplish the impossible task, or will her efforts be in vain?


	2. The Mission

A/N...chapter two we see Bulma trying to convince her stubborn husband to accompany them on the trip. See if she can succeed.

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ

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Bulma kept herself busy with a word puzzle; waiting in inactivity was something she was not capable of. It toyed with her nerves. With the extra time at her disposal, she had arranged all the books in the library, bathed her toddler daughter,Bulla, and aided Trunks with his homework. The heiress had assigned herself dutiful task to pass the time. And still she'd yet come in contact with Vegeta. The prince had never stayed more than 7 hours in the room. And she could have sworn she'd stalled her time for over 8 hours waiting for him. He couldn't possibly have enough energy to withhold his average gravity pull. That amount of time could kill a man. But Vegeta wasn't a typical man; he was a saiyan. Saiyans were an advanced form of life. They had more tolerance for pain—borderline indestructible, powerful, subjugating, and plain awful rude (Goku's benevolence exempts him from that proverbial fact).

Another half hour of leaning forward in her chair, her gaze unfocused, she could feel her nerves spiking up and down. The thought of him renouncing the idea without any room for reasoning cradled her rising nerves. She had, however, many tricks up her sleeve before taking any firm 'hell nos'. The first trick she had used was persuasive enough to coaxed him into bringing Bulla to her first play date. He'd simply have to drop her and leave, but that wasn't why he disdained the practice. Whenever forced to do the chore, he was met with clingy, overly sympathizing mother's who'd taken it upon themselves to bombard him with coos and questions. Their over frivolous persona was even too much for Bulma. Partially, it was her intolerance of the women that she'd forced her husband to do it. She'd kept that reasoning to herself. Forcing him to that job was easy. He'd eventually oblige to anything involving Bra. That, although he would never vocally admit, was his little princess. Forcing him to go to a place where he'd be out of his comfort zone, surrounded by earthlings, would serve a bit more complex than taking his daughter to a play date. Would her art of persuasion fail her?

Her question would soon be answered. It wasn't after the clock stroke 6, did the door to the gravity room hissed open. Like fog on a platform, steam bled through the door. His sleek silhouette cut through the fog slowly. His notoriously stoic scowl painted on his moist face. He had a white towel around his neck, so the drops of liquid on his face was the condensed droplets of water after a shower. Bulma sat up, her eyes gleamed with enthusiasm, she approached her husband. Her approach leveled; each taken lascivious step was, in its own, an attack to weaken him. Her efforts would soon fail when the prince stalked passed her with solid, unwavering, eyes. She sucked her teeth at her already failed attempt. She hadn't even fully approached him, and the plan was coming to bits.

Vegeta hadn't prepensely ignored his wife's lascivious vibes. He had just been hungry. Spending well more than eight hours training under 300 times earth's normal gravity could do that to a man. Bulma followed him suit. Once in the kitchen, she powered back her charm and intercepted Vegeta's advancement towards the fridge. The scowl on Vegeta's face deepened and before his mouth opened to question his wife's foolish behaviors, Bulma opened the fridge door open for him. A small grin appeared on her face, and she motioned for him to have a seat. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her, but without any act on his suspicion, he complied. Bulma took out a small capsule from the fridge. This was the first move of **_plan A: Please husband with abundant amount of food._** It was more than a fact that the best way to a Saiyan's heart was in fact through their stomach. Excellent example for the theory was Goku: he had literally correlated marriage as a discreet word for a type of dish.

Closing the fridge, she walked to where her husband sat. She met him with a playful grin to which he met her with a flummoxed expression. She cleared her throat, "I made your favorites," she clicked the cap and threw it on the table. Within seconds it exploded. After the light puff of smoke from the capsule cleared an extravagant arrangements of his favorite meals and desserts occupied the velvety clothed ornamented table. Three candles took refuge in the center. They flickered ever so slightly, matching the mood and cadence of the current moment. The lights in the kitchen had mysteriously mellowed out into a dimmer glow. Vegeta looked up, oddly confused by the turn of events. He eyed the woman questioningly, but he still spoke no words on the matter. The woman was a strange, manic depressed character, and if he were to question everything odd she'd done he'd exhaust the air in his lungs.

Bulma broke the long silence before it slipped into awkwardness, "Well, dig in. " She was sitting facing to him, and in front of her was a plate filled with the goodies from the table. Vegeta grabbed for a fork, wordlessly. Bulma huffed inwardly. She had truly hoped he'd speak of his gratitude for the meal than digging in immediately, but she let that little bother slip. She had bigger fish to fry. For a long while the only sound that emitted from the room was the clanging sound of metal to ceramic. The sound synced with the sound of chomping mouths and swallows. Still no words exchanged among them. Bulma grew nervous, and the silence was pinning her to a corner. She had to act fast before she lost the chance to bond and strategically propose the vacation. Saiyan's were fast eaters.

Again she cleared her throat, "Do you like the stewed lambs...they are your favorites," she cocked her head to the side, and let her wide smile veil her temporarily chiaroscuro features. Occupied with the savory food before him, Vegeta failed to catch her affectious ways. Bulma groaned at her husband's lack of attention towards her. If not for the many years of marriage and clear emotional bond before them, she'd crack under insecurities. But she knew how strong their love was. It did not need any forced actions to reprimand her. Still it bore down on her.

She went for another jab at a conversion, this time attacking it at a more relevant point. "So how are the bots I designed?"

"A bit slow if you ask me" he finally spoke. Bulma repressed a grunt. The first exchanged of words from his part and it had to be an insult to her. If not for her self-control, she would have launched herself to him, and strangle him. _Jerk _she thought to herself.

"Oh, my" her tone drenched in insincerity. " I guess your just so strong I can't keep up." Vegeta looked up at her, his eyes planted on hers. He sensed her insincerity off the bat, but countering her would only hold him from finishing his meal.

"Did you press the black button under the reset?" She asked.

"Black button?"

Bulma chuckled and laid out the information to the new programming, "Well, If you had listened to me last time you'd know—"

"Spit it out woman!" He interjected. He'd lost his patience at this point. He didn't like her skidding around whatever ruse this whole dinner was meant for.

Bulma quirked one blue brow at him, "Well I was going to tell you about the bots."

"Not the bots," his tone was more leveled. "What's the meaning for all this," his hands pointed at all the festive decor of the table and food. Bulma cursed herself inwardly for coming off too conspicuous. For this whole plan to work subtlety was the key. When that key had been flushed, it served Bulma a predicament she had not prepared for.

She decided to play it coy, "What is it then?"

Losing his patience and fast, he once again flagged his hands over the food indicating to her that this whole extravagant dinner was too out of character for her...For her to concoct such a ruse, she would need time, and for her to have time, she would need to take some time off work.

He was catching on to her fast, and to thwart him off her trail she decided to play a different card, a more aggressive, defensive card. " Whatever Vegeta!" She yelled, and pushed her chair back and stood indignantly. She grabbed her empty appliances and threw them aggressively into the sink. "I do one nice thing for you and rather than thanking me, you _accuse _me of wrong doings!" She squared her hands to her hips and marched towards him and grabbed his empty appliances and doing the same thing she did to hers. Vegeta arched his eyebrows up at her mood doing a complete 180. He assumed her to be slightly mad, but her actions could prove him otherwise. The woman was a few bulbs short of mentally apt. Genius or not, she was missing a few screws.

"Why are you being defensive?" He smirked darkly, and crossed his arms. His words were making her squirm, and from her shifting eyes, and uncomfortable mannerism; he knew something was up.

"Defensive?!" She threw back, "Oh I'll show you defensive," and with those being her last words, she stormed out the kitchen.

She had only made it to the outside door of their bedroom until her feisty façade faded into an anxious one. She placed a calming hand on her heart to feel the rush. She let out controlled breaths to bring back her composure. _Alright he's starting to suspect. I can't let him know now, not until he's in a better mood. _She went into their room and flopped back first on her side of the bed. Suddenly a mischievous grin grew on her lips-her grin progressively stretched out from ear to ear-a grin that could only assert the formation of a new plan. _Onto plan B_ she thought as her eyes flew to a wooden chest securely hidden in the crook of their bedroom.

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I hoped you like it...

Review if you'd like. I want to know what you think of it! I always like feedback...

Stay tune for the next Chapter.

Inside the Treasure Chest.

Bulma has another plan under her sleeves...and this one involves this mysterious chest. What of this plan and will it be enough to get the saiyan prince to agree.


	3. Inside the Treasure Chest

A/N...Chapter three...discover what's inside that mysterious chest and what Bulma plans to do with it...and will that be enough to persuade the prince. Plus, Vegeta still has no clue of this whole trip will he put the pieces together before Bulma has the chance to ask him? Find out now.

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ.

Things will get a bit hot and steamy so viewer's discretion is advised.

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It had been years since that chest was opened. Securely tucked in the crook of the room, the dark intricately chiseled coffer burrowed itself in the shadows collecting the dust from years of neglected use. It was a big bulky chest, and the wood was grazed fashionably to make arcane designs. A giant lock hung on the mouth of the chest. Bulma let a smile escape her as she reminisced the first time Vegeta saw the contents in the forbidden box. He played off his shock, shrugging it off; proclaiming the contents in that box did not matter to him. But it did in fact matter. Bulma had welded the box herself. It was a compartment she kept all her _toys._ It was about two years post the cell battle, when she open the box. Once opening the box, she had beckoned her husband over. Upon seeing the content in the box, his eyes went large and his cheek turned scarlet red. A few items in the wooden crate were foreign to him, but he had enough sense in his mind to know that most if not all the articles in that box were a devious, twisted products of sexual recreation. Bulma held a smug look on her face as her husband looked on in absolute wonder. Noticing her complacent look, he wiped the shock and amazement off his face and replaced it with a neutral, unfazed look.

That memory of that day had dug itself into her memories. It had been one of the most memorable days of her life. Since that day, the box was never touched. The two had outgrown the mediocre toys, they had advanced to a higher plateau of love-making. It seemed that those toys, rather than add more facets and fun, slowed them down. Often serving as a block and annoying piece of plastic digging itself under their skin as they rolled about the bed.

Back then those toys had become disincentives to their fun. Bulma rolled herself off the bed and made her way to the chest. She knelt in front of the box. The nostalgia had kept her grin unwavering. She stretched one of her hands towards the box and brushed away the layers of dust. Underneath the thick layer of dust, manually carved initials of the couples name materialized. A short gasp escaped the heiress. It had been so long that she had completely forgotten that fragment of the memory. She stared at it longingly.

_/_

_Bulma retrieved a short, sharp piece of metal from her tool box, " We can use this to carve our initials." she bent down in front of the box and began etching the letter __**B **__against the wood's exterior shell. The scratching sound became a cacophonous, flustering sound to the Prince's sensitive ears. _

_"What is the purpose of this woman?" He pressed both of hands against his ears, " must we write our initials. It is our property, why would we need to claim ownership of it by writing our names. It will not be robbed from here."_

_"No, silly" she laughed, "It's not to keep it from being taken. It's to just..." she paused, not knowing how to explain the tradition to her confused husband. "It's just something people on this planet do...usually it's done on trees. It's to mark their love on a territory."_

_"But I have already marked my territory," Vegeta returned, impatience stirring in his tone. Bulma stopped etching and turn her head to face him. His brows were knit together, and his arms were crossed._

_She rolled her eyes, "Not that sort of territorial mark," she said in hushed tones, afraid that the walls had ears. "It's not a bite..." she added, before returning to the letter she was working on. So far the sharp metal serve little to no visible dent to the tough shell of the wood. She huffed and started pressing more force to the metal. Her grip fastened around the metal, and she could feel a small pain rising from her palm from the tight grip. She gave up, and looked up at Vegeta for assistance. He was still confused about the tradition. If human's marked their territory by sketching just one letter of their name onto a wooden object, what was the symbolic weight of it? It hardly seemed as meaningful as a bite. When a saiyan warrior bit his lover, often times near the carotid artery, he left a permanent mark. It symbolized eternal devotion. It is with that bite a saiyan can create that unbreakable bond with their partner. They became life partners that offered the promise of protection, trust, and respect to one another. The bond created by the bite gave the partner's access to each other's thoughts, feelings, and in time of danger, the lovers could sense their woes. What could a scratched piece of pine wood create other than saw dust and poorly scribbled out letters encircled by a lop sided heart. The whole tradition seemed meager to the prince._

_With a relenting eye roll the prince grabbed the metal from his wife, he analyzed the now jagged dull end of the metal. "This will serve no use," he flung it across the room. Before Bulma could object, he pointed one finger at the box. She regarded him with a confused look, but when a bright form of light flickered before his index, her eyes widened, and she jumped out of the way. Before too long, a thin line of ki protruded from his finger to the wood. With ease he was able to carve their initials. Bulma pushed on for a heart to frame their initials, but to that, he vehemently protested. Satisfied with the etched letters, Bulma crawled back in front of the box and proceeded to open the lock..._

_/_

That had been years ago, and looking at the initials now pulled at her heart-strings. She never confessed it to her husband, but it meant more than a lot when he himself had etched the letters: albeit it was with her strong encouragement that he finally relented, but the artist of this whole thing was him. She traced an index finger on the letters. Distracted by the reminiscing thoughts, she had forgotten of the plan. She snapped out of her haze and proceeded to unlock the box. She had to jog her mind up a bit for the lock was a combination lock.

Dialing _7-6-6,_ she pulled open the lock and lifted the lid. There was some resistance from the chest's lid. It had been so long that its been open that its outer design had welded; making a loud eerie creak sound. The content in the box was just as it was years ago. No sign of any disturbance. Bulma felt heat rising to her cheeks, as she searched through it.

She dug her hands deeper into the crate. Something caught her grip, and with a few tugs, she pulled it out. It was a black felt whip; gilded with scarlet red lines. She twirled the object in her hands for a while, inspecting its condition.

"Whoa what is that?" Bulma, with intense speed she didn't know she possessed, stuffed the whip back into the chest and closed it. She turned to her son with a shy smile. She could feel her pulse rising, and with the rising pulse, her face turned a bright red. Trunks scrunched his face at his mother's weird behavior. Something told him his curiosity would only scar him...

His eyes went to the object his mother tried to conceal from his line of view. "Is that a treasure chest!" His voice rose with excitement, "What's in there?"

Bulma slapped a hand on her face, and slid it down slowly pulling her skin down. "Son," she began, regaining a leveled composure, "This is..." her eyes averted from his. Returning her gaze back to her son she continued, "this is a top secret treasure chest." Behind her, her hands were hard at work trying to click the lock back in. Without her sight on the chest, the task proved impossible.

Trunks took a few steps closer. "Whatever it is, I'll find out sooner or later mom." The boy crossed his arms and a smug look appeared on his face. Tiny beads of sweat formed on the heiress's forehead as she thought of her son breaking open the box and discovering the contents inside. Some of the things in there were discreet enough for a 12 years old boy to think nothing of, but there were other things that could traumatize the boy. She couldn't let him have the chance.

"Listen young man," she admonished, "If you go anywhere near this; expect my little promise of keeping your actions from this morning from your father terminated..." She crossed her arm and cocked her head victoriously, "Got it?" Trunks nodded, with fear in his eyes. He deliberated on asking his mother more questions, but from the crazy look on her face the young prince decided to take his leave. After the boy left the room, she collapsed to her knees with a sigh of relief. She reopened the box and continued to search through the box.

_Mom is acting so weird._ The boy thought as he poured himself some juice. He took the cup and slurped his juice. He narrowed his eyes at the direction of his parents room. He could hear the rustling of objects from the room. He couldn't help but be inquisitive of his mother's secretive behavior. With his grip still around the cup, he squeezed hard as he formed a plan to find more out. The cup under his strength cracked, leaking out a majority of the liquid.

"Damn it," he threw the broken cup away and began to clean his mess. It was then his father appeared through the door... The elder prince was dressed in his casual attire, he had changed into regular clothes after his training from this morning. He regarded his son with a look to which the boy returned a innocent smile.

"Just a spill," the boy defended before his father asked. Vegeta nodded and went down the hall to his room. Trunks stopped cleaning for a second to watch his father enter the room. He knew from when he was in there, his mother had been looking through a chest for something. She had seemed a bit jittery when he questioned her about the box. He wondered if she was still in there looking through. To subdue his curiosity, he decided to follow where the action would soon begin. Neither did he know that whatever would soon erupt from the room would be of no concern for him, and would serve as a potentially traumatic experience.

Vegeta entered the room, hands dipped in his pants pockets, and with his regular hard scowl. Bulma had transitioned from the floor to the end of the bed. She had a familiar look on her face.

"What?" he queried, noticing her long pressing stare. Bulma motioned for him to close the door with just a tilt of her head. Not knowing why she was so seductive with her movements and not one to argue, he complied. Before the prince let the words form in his mouth, the heiress jumped off the bed and pulled him by the arm. He was far stronger than her, and her pull would not have normally affected him, but her touch resonated something. She lured him to the bed and sat him down. She inched herself closer to him, their faces in close proximity. He remained leveled and tried showing little to no weakness to her games, but that became a harder act to hold up when she started to massage the tension off his shoulder. His animal instincts would be to take control of her ruse, and plant her down aggressively on the bed and show her how the game was played, but he knew from her behavior all day, this was just foreplay for deceit. He's known her long enough to know that she wasn't against using her charm to get something. She'd done it when she wanted him to go to the science expo with her. Nothing worst than being stuck in a room with people who think they're Einstein reincarnated. From that incident, he had learned whenever she played the docile card, there was a string attached.

Noticing his indifference, she decided to pull out the big guns. A few years back, it was established that they had outgrown the contents in the crate. But revisiting the past with these _toys_ could serve as something more than foreplay. She decided, right then and there, not to stall. He knew something was up, and she could sense his suspicion from his staggering ability to resist her out-pouring charms. She was wedged between his legs. Her arms looped around his neck, she kissed him on the cheeks. When she felt no resistance from him, she decided to add more force to her kisses. She trailed tiny, shallow kisses up to his ears. Seductively, she began to lick the outer cardinals of his ears. That usually was what did the trick, and as she predicted it did the trick. He brought both his hands to her arms and flipped their positions. Lighting speed, Bulma found herself pinned to the bed, and he was the one on his feet. Like he always did, he took the charge. An alluring grin played on her features, as she cupped her hands on his face. She pulled him in and planted a long soft kiss on his lips. Progressively, the soft kiss transformed into a deeper, stronger, passionate kiss. Re-looping her arms around his neck, she used it to incline her body up from the bed. He used her elevation, and wrapped his strong hands around her revealed back. Under his hands he could feel her back muscles contracting as she tenderly embraced him.

Not the type to stay restricted to just the bed, Vegeta stood back up. Bulma narrowed her eyes sensually at him, and using the bed's bounciness, jumped into her husbands arms. He caught her easily. She looped her legs around his waist and locked her ankles to give her a tighter hold. Before too long, Bulma's back was pinned to the wall. She let out a loud pleased breath. He pinned her hard enough to disturb the portraits that hung. Serving as the fireworks to their moment they fell down simultaneously creating a chorus of broken glass sounds.

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A/N... I really hope you guys like it...

Please review! Tell me what you think...I like reading any feedback!

More to come!

Stay tune for Chapter 4!

Silver Orb of Destruction...

Bulma catches the prince off guard and slips in the question, but before doing so, she finds something in the mysterious chest...Not knowing herself how to use the content...something she herself created...this little thing packs a wallop. Find out what it is on the next exciting chapter.


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